


All the Things I’ve Got to Remember

by Bool_Ji



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: M/M, Mentions Of Angry Sex, Reminiscing, Rivalry, past relationship, sort of songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:32:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bool_Ji/pseuds/Bool_Ji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leave it to Terry Bogard to find the only burger joint within five square miles of Akihabara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Things I’ve Got to Remember

Lights from twenty storefronts shine green, red, and yellow onto pedestrians and asphalt alike. A row of bicycles dutifully sit chained to a rack. Young couples glide down the street, showing each other things on their phones. A guy with blonde hair that follows the arc of his spine sat at a table in Happy Burger, watched the world go by, and took his French fries with ketchup.  
  
Iori Yagami is good at disappearing. The schoolgirls and businessmen pass him by, oblivious to the rock star in their midst. The redhead lingered in his alley, eyes trained on the lone wolf. Bogard is probably here to visit his brother.  
  
Probably.  
  
Street musicians croon and electronic doormats snap _irasshaimase_ and farther down the street a truck backfires noisily, but when Terry perked up, glancing at the unseen stereos purring from the ceiling, then sang along, Iori heard.  
  
“Taaaake oooon meeee—”  
  
He’s here to visit the younger Bogard and his half-wit ninja girlfriend. And to get out of the smog and swill of Southtown. Terry kept his affairs to himself, and Iori was more than fine with that.  
  
“Taaaake meeee oooon—”  
  
More than fine with keeping distance himself, keeping to the shadows, lest he be swarmed with teenagers requesting his autograph. Absolutely content with watching from the alley and not trading blows in the street. Perfectly satisfied with a lack of sparks dancing from a fist aimed at his face.  
  
“I’ll beeee gooone—”  
  
Iori would return to his own home and not to some dingy hotel, clutching a bloodstained red vest and returning an all-American glare, calves bumping against the back of the bed and teeth clicking together, the taste of hot copper on his lips—  
  
“In a day or _twoooo_!”  
  
Nailed the high note just as Iori remembered how the man would howl, knuckles white and clenched in the sheets.  
  
Terry laughed at the confused stares he garnered, pointing at the ceiling, explaining in fluent Japanese. It’s a good song. He still smiled as he reached for his soda. Blue eyes met red.  
  
His amusement died.  
  
Iori looked away, arms folded. He was fine with that.

**Author's Note:**

> my life is nothing but a never-ending series of crack ships


End file.
